Seventeen Ain't So Sweet
by hndsmrndsm
Summary: He'd gotten so used to the idea of living on his own, not that he hadn't been independent before but getting away from his over-bearing mother and sergeant father made the brief thought of living at home a nightmare. AU/set in past before D2NO R&R!


_"Call me some time once you're out,"_

His fingers slid over the name printed on the card the man gave him like Braille, as if tracing the bold letters would help him understand what he'd meant. _Dylan Crandall_…would he give him a call? Perhaps. He sure wanted to.

The man smiled at him, his awe just reminding him how young and naive the kid really was. "You've got some real talent. If you promise not to get too rusty I might reserve a spot for you when you get back."

His words were stuck in his throat and even if his mind wasn't clouded from a sick combination of fatigue and giddiness he wouldn't know what he could say.

He mumbled softly an agreement, completely dazed. What had just happened? He re-read card over and over but it didn't seem to sink in.

Dylan patted his shoulder, tapping his guitar strap and nodded. The kid grinned shyly and watched as he made his way around him and off the stage.

Then he was alone.

The stage lights shut off abruptly, leaving him in the dark to contemplate.

What would his next move be?

The most logical thing to do would be to head back to Virginia; finish his senior year and then get the hell out. Then again, Gregory House was not one to always do the logical thing.

The last thing he wanted to do was go home.  
He'd gotten so used to the idea of living on his own, not that he hadn't been independent before but getting away from his over-bearing mother and sergeant father made the brief thought of living at home a nightmare.

He ran away for a reason he hadn't forgot and that was the whole reason for this short-lived adventure, to forget. Instead living on the streets drudged up more painful memories he didn't want to deal with.

Not to mention, he had a sinking feeling of what was to come once he made his return. He was too much of a coward to face his father before he left. He didn't walk out the front door and spit in his father's face. No, no. Instead he took the 'safer route' by leaving a two word note on his bed and climbing out the window in the middle of the night. He can't imagine the fury in his father but he knew for sure that it wouldn't be the fact that Greg ran away that upset him. It would be the fact that he didn't stand up to him like a man, whatever that would be.

The only thing his heart truly ached for was his poor mother. He hated making her worry when she didn't need to. Then, he was sure an "I'm fine" would be sufficient for her not to fret about his well-being but knowing his mother that note probably gave her a heart attack. He wanted to see her, not him, to assure her that he was alright. But going back would mean he'd be forced to stay at least for another year. He wanted to finish high school but then there would be the issue of college and then the age old argument between him and his father would resurface because there was no way in hell that he was going to West Point. The military just wasn't for him but his father would never see it that way. He'd assume that it's another chance for Greg to rebel, which it undoubtedly was, but he honestly wasn't interested. But no, selfishly his father would assume that Greg was simply rebelling against his wishes for the hell of it and that he had more than the capability and interest for it when that was never the case at all. Pissing his father off was just an added bonus.

He wanted to be a rock star and during his time here that dream was becoming a reality.

His father would hate it.

That pleased him but even he had enough sense to realize going into the music business was either a make it or break it kind of deal. People either loved you or they hated you, and even then it's difficult to make money from it in the beginning and money was something he would desperately need in the near future. And once he hits a certain age where the skin starts to sag and the voice doesn't sound quite like it used to be he'd be out of the job, and that's if he makes a record deal.

There's no telling what could happen. Why does he have to decide this now? He's hardly seventeen.

There was something else he'd been considering for quite some time. The thought had been drifting in and out of his mind ever since his father was stationed in Japan a few years ago. At first he set it aside but it keeps resurfacing and his feels toward it just seem to be getting stronger and stronger. Maybe he could be like that janitor; the last resort, the one that everyone relies on in the end for the answer. He'd be saving lives, doing something that mattered- more than music. Being a doctor has its perks too. The money, the ladies…

And his father would hate it, perhaps more than him being a rock star. What if his father enjoyed his music? He couldn't take that chance.

And he would loathe having some pansy-ass doctor for a son.


End file.
